


the headache of their lives

by smallredboy



Category: Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Weird Biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 06:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21094619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Ghosts aren't supposd to possess other ghosts. Adam and Barbara learn this after Beetlejuice does that to them.





	the headache of their lives

**Author's Note:**

> my first fic for beetlejuice!
> 
> for tropebingo with the square 'mind control' and hc-bingo with the square 'mind control / posession'.
> 
> enjoy!

“My head’s killing me,” Barbara mutters, putting her hand over her mouth, grimacing. “God, Beetlejuice really had to—”

“Are you okay, Barbara?” Lydia asks, comfortable in that one spot in the attic she always sits on. 

Adam groans, rubbing his scalp. “I think this is a like, side effect of… him possessing us. Ghosts aren’t supposed to possess other ghosts. It’s more a ghost-on-human thing, I believe. So now it’s hitting us hard, I guess.”

“D’you think it’s affecting him too?” Lydia asks as she stands up, unsure how to help them. 

Barbara huffs. “Probably not. God, I’m nauseous. And I can’t even throw up anything!”

“I could take some Ibuprofen from my dad’s cabinet? Would you be able to swallow it down?”

Adam shrugs as he settles down on the floor, still rubbing his head. “Maybe. We haven’t exactly experimented with being ghosts.”

“Logically we shouldn’t be able to, but—” Barbara starts.

“I’ll go get them,” Lydia says, stepping out and finding the trapdoor, sliding out of the attic and heading to her dad’s bedroom. She scavenges through one of the cabinets, humming before finally finding a bottle full of small pills. She puts it in the pocket of her men’s black jeans— they don’t quite fit her, but the pockets are more important than that.

She heads back to the attic and opens the pill bottle. Adam is laying on his back now, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes glazed over, his hands over his eyes. It’s good that the room is so dark, otherwise his migraine would be much worse. Barbara is still sitting on the floor, leaning against a box, eyes screwed shut in pain.

“I got the pills!” she exclaims a tad too loud, which she immediately realizes when they both groan. She shrinks on herself, biting the inside of her cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell. Anyway, Ibuprofen?”

“Lemme try,” Adam says, going back to a sitting position before grabbing the pill bottle and opening it. He takes one of the capsules, an oval-ish thing, and puts it in his mouth before swallowing. He hums, a brow raised, before the pill clatters down on the floor. He groans. “Goddammit.” He stands up. The pill is there, untouched. “I can’t even relieve a migraine now that I’m dead.”

“You were never able to relieve them anyway, dear,” Barbara tells her, still with her face against the box.

“That’s true,” he relents, going back down to laying on the floor.

“Can I do anything to help you?” Lydia asks. She feels like she’s in costumer service. 

“Eugh,” Barbara says, eloquently. “I think we’re doomed to have these until they pass. It’s— not good, but, eh. What can ya do.”

“Just lay down with us until your dad calls you or something,” Adam mumbles as he closes his eyes tight. “Silent company’s the best medicine when you have a migraine and hearing people talk will drive you insane. That’s what I always say.”

“You’ve never said that,” Barbara tells him.

“Shhhhh,” he mock-whispers as Lydia gets comfortable on the floor.

Lydia sighs. “Sorry the pills didn’t work, guys.”

“It’s okay,” Adam tells her, patting her shoulder. “Let’s just sit here.”

And they do.


End file.
